Does she know the many tears I’ve cried, missing her so much it hurts deep down to the base of my soul? The world changed when she went away. And while I know she is in a better place, the piece missing from my heart is a constant reminder that I will never again be whole. 

Does she know?

Does she know I am sorry for the things I said? That the anger and bitterness were not about her, it was about me? Does she know I think of her when I drive by our place, and I long to pick up the phone and talk for hours about nothing at all. Just to hear her voice. 

Does she know?

Does she know I want to be her friend? I know I will never replace anyone significant in her life. But I care and want our relationship to grow, to thrive in its own right. I don’t know how to reach out. I do not wish to scare her away. But I love her. 

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Does she know? 

Does she know I envy her creativity? Her ability to roll with the tides and reinvent herself with each new season while still standing strong in the character that defines her. I want to glean wisdom from her but am too insecure to ask. 

Does she know? 

Does she know she hurt me? Her lies, while never fully admitted, are known deep within my heart. I long to forgive, but it’s so hard when there was never an acknowledgment of the hurt. Yet, I miss her and long to reunite and desire the bond we once shared. 

Does she know? 

Does she know I am in awe of her? She is so strong, so loving, so kind. She tackles so much that I feel I could never live up to, such a grand scale of womanhood. Yet, she must have fears. She must face hurts. She must get tired. Yet, she doesn’t show it. I wish she would, so I could rest in her humanity and bond over each little imperfection, which makes her absolutely perfect in the eyes of those who love her. 

Does she know? 

Does she know I see the sacrifices she made? The times she put on a smiling, happy, brave face when she felt anything but. That she shielded me from pain in her own life, in an effort to concentrate on making mine as beautiful as she could. Does she know that I now see how much a mother hides, if only to ensure that her children are safe, protected, and their world does not shatter on her watch? Does she know she didn’t have to do it alone? Yet, I am so very grateful . . . for everything.

Does she know?  

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The women in our lives are friends, foes, angels, demons, lovers, haters—a little bit of everything, which produces a glorious bouquet of diverse beauty. Some arrive for a sparse season with a specific meaning or agenda to enhance our lives or teach us a painful lesson. Others show up unexpectedly and we adopt them as sisters, holding onto them for dear life, for we did not realize how much we needed them until they made their presence known. Still others are there from the very beginning, so much a part of us, giving new meaning to the term “soulmate,” that we simply cannot conceive a life without them. And when that dreaded time arrives, we are paralyzed with a hurt so deep it never truly goes away, we simply learn to live with it. 

It has been said that no man is an island, but I think the more meaningful saying, for this particular message is: A woman is only as strong as the sum of those with whom she surrounds herself. We need each other. To lean on, to encourage, to inspire, to share, to cry, to laugh, to love, and to grow.

To all the women in my life—past, present, future, here and now, gone and waiting—I salute you. I adore you. I thank you. And most importantly I love you.   

Make sure she knows.